


Five Minutes - Unsupervised

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, From inside the mind of Eurus Holmes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Moriarty was the key to her prison, and revenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts).



> She was the youngest and the most brilliant. Even now, she was as a God to all those feeble minded creatures who would dare breech her fortress. Here she waits, not yet sated.

Back turned, staring into space, Eurus Holmes had convinced her latest "treats" that she was floating in a drug induced, catatonic stupor. In reality, she was acutely aware of them. There were three, of course there were three. The magic number.

 

Her deranged smile hidden from their view, her mind flashed like lightning in a tempest at sea. The 3 Stooges, the 3 Wise Men (and wasn't the second trio the same as the first? She cackled to herself.) The 3 Tenors, The 3 Little Pigs, three three three!!!

 

Being careful not to convey her sudden agitation to her "guests", the Holmes sister retreated into her own thoughts. Three had always been the number, why then had she asked for FIVE minutes with James Moriarty?

 

HE was to provide her with all she needed for the intricate framework that would bring to pass the glorious revenge she had so long sought. Eurus supposed he had been bright enough for a mere mortal, though she found him slightly manic, and prissy in the extreme. He had even come with two bodyguards. There they had stood- 1, 2, 3.

 

Every question had been asked, every answer catalogued in her eidetic memory, still, perhaps three minutes would have proven more in sync with the Universe. Less time spent on details, more on deductions. Five minutes of indisputable facts, yet somehow..

 

She had begun that very night engineering the events that would lead to the "Fall", up to and including Moriarty's suicide on the roof. Foolish little man had thought himself immune to her mental manipulations. Why, she had often wondered, had he believed it was normal to make all those small recordings for her use? Did he suppose she simply liked him smiling and babbling tick-tick and choo-choo? Idiot!

 

Moriarty had assured her that John Watson was the "heart" of her brother Sherlock. Fine, she would use the power of 3 to destroy him. Threaten Watson, Lestrade, and Hudson and Sherlock would be broken. For a time he was, but 3 years later, he returned.

 

Always watching, always plotting, Eurus had access to more information than her other "dear" brother, Mycroft. When it had become clear that Sherlock was to be allowed rescue, she handpicked a suitable companion for Doctor Watson. Utilizing her contacts, she introduced one Rosamund Mary Morstan into the equation.

 

The equation was meant to be a fraction, splitting, dividing. Instead, it became a formidable trio of John, Mary AND Sherlock. Then a trio of Mary, John and their expected baby.

 

1.) Eurus had arranged for Mary to kill Sherlock. FAIL. 2.) CAM was brainwashed into goading Sherlock to assassinate him. This was to result in Sherlock's suicide mission. FAIL. 3.) A virtual pharmacy awaited Sherlock on the plane, but he made a damn list for Mycroft. Sherlock was unwilling to surrender to death. FAIL. FAIL FAIL FAIL - 1, 2, 3.

 

That had been her first use of the amusing little Moriarty messages. "Did you miss me?" The irony was not lost on the youngest Holmes. This query which struck terror into the souls of her victims, was the one question she herself would never pose. Not that anyone had missed her, Sherlock had erased her from his memory for fuck's sake. The fact was however, to her, it simply didn't matter.

 

All that had mattered was her revenge, the ultimate entertainment. Admittedly, it had been a rather good joke to see her failed experiment "Mary" make her daring dash to death, thus saving Sherlock.

Even more enjoyable was watching the glee of Culverton Smith as he carried out his instructions from her to the letter. She did so love her "pets" to be demented and depraved.

 

Best of all, what orgasmic delight she felt as she watched the good doctor unleash his fury on a humbled Sherlock. Death, Murder and a Bloody Beating. WIN WIN WIN. 1, 2, 3.

 

Then, once again, the universe spat in her face. Smith did not succeed in suffocating Sherlock, her "pet" was captured, and most distressing of all, the disgusting scene at Baker Street. How naive Sherlock had been to think his flat was now devoid of spyware.

 

Pathetic how her ridiculous brother had taken the sobbing, shaking John Watson into his arms, embracing him like a lover. Shit! For one horrifying moment, Eurus thought Sherlock was going to kiss the weak, mewling excuse for a man.

 

She had vomited her dinner, and had they kissed, she would have emptied her bowels. Sherlock alive, Smith neutralized, and Baker Street a cesspool of sentiment. FAIL FAIL FAIL. 1, 2, 3.

 

Time to up HER GAME. What fun it had been to shock and drug John under the watchful eye of the dead therapist's rotting body. Then blowing up the flat. A tad melodramatic for her tastes, but it had brought her 3 new toys to her playrooms.

 

3 playrooms. 1.) The morality room, where her three performing monkeys, Sherlock, Mycroft and John proved that to see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil results in doing no evil. The prize? A dead husband and wife! Goody goody!

 

2.) The mystery room. Who done it? Solve it, save two Garridebs. Solved it! Well done you three. Oops, dropped all Garridebs into the sea. Hurray for me. 1, 2, 3.

 

3.) The morgue room. Destroy the life of an innocent with three nauseating words. I love you. 1, 2, 3. But it was here that Eurus had begun to doubt the value of some of her 5 minute information. Watching Sherlock smash the casket, she wondered if she had erred in not actually cremating Molly Hopper.

 

1.) Sherlock in a cell (a frightened child on the phone).  
2.) Ding dong dell, Johnny's chained in a well.  
3.) Mycroft remains, where, who can tell.

 

Easy as 1, 2, 3. Why then, is the triangle unraveling? Sherlock should not have discovered the fake walls. John was not meant to know the bones were human. Doctor, Eurus you are not usually so careless.

 

Sherlock didn't even remember you little Sister. What power does this arse of an ex-soldier have over him to invoke the true recollections of Redbeard?

 

As for Mycroft, nothing she had been told would have led her to believe him capable of honor, courage, devotion and love. Yet he had shown himself to be that very man. Maddening!

 

She could not believe it was possible, but she, Eurus Holmes was about to be outnumbered, outplayed and outwitted. 1, 2, 3.

 

There was but one course of action. Retreat, reinvent, and regroup. 1, 2, 3. 

 

1.) Retreat. Revealing her whereabouts to Sherlock, giving clues to the cypher, "helping to rescue" John Watson. Live to fight another day.

 

2.) Reinvent. What a pitiful sight I made, the neglected child who only wanted to play. I didn't mean to hurt Victor. I close my eyes and see that little girl on the plane. Oh Sherlock, oh.

 

3.) Regroup. Back in my fortress of Sherrinford, I sit upon my throne room floor allowing Sherlock to believe his music has drawn me back from the maw of Hell. 

 

How devastated would he be to learn that I now have his REAL 5 minutes of information. He and Mycroft really are TRUE brothers, and against all sane reason, Mycroft seems to have someone called Greg, who is willing to take care of him.

 

Sherlock is not IN love with Molly Hooper, but he does love her, and that senile old housekeeper. What a waste of brain cells.

 

Most interesting of all, domesticity reigns at Baker Street. Two men and a baby. 1, 2, 3. That Sherlock would adore a puking, dirty nappied imbecile, beggar's belief. But there they are, his besotted gaze on the child eclipsed only by the brilliance of the doctors loving expression when looking at my brother. Putrid!

 

Still, worth knowing. How I would relish raising a motherless child. A wee small girl to mold in my image. Family, ah, yes family.

 

How long have I been lost in reflection? Some time, but my "treats" are still here. Sitting as three, side by side, holding hands as if to pray for the resurrection of the humanity of their darling Eurus. What a lovely picture, Mummy, Daddy and Mycroft. The parents had begged and their oldest son could not refuse. Fool!

 

I pretend a slow awakening from the fog of drugs, and cast a pain filled glance at the egg and sperm who spawned me. They appear crushed as my eyes plead for mercy. One look and they are mine. Mummy, Daddy, Big Brother. 1, 2, 3.

 

Must be patient Eurus. Sherrinford is still completely under my sway, but it would not do to exert too much power too soon. When the time comes, I will know.

 

My 3 "treats" will return, believing, as do Sherlock and John, that love will conquer all. What a "delicious" day that will be. I will spend the hours at my "Games", and, when I am sated, "the final problem" of disposing of my indiscretions will be easily dealt with.

 

If you were paying attention, my dears, we have cannibals here at Sherrinford. Indeed we do - ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!

**Author's Note:**

> For all those wishing for Season Five, I believe Eurus is the perfect villain in waiting. Remember, this was "The Final Problem," NOT "The Final Solution".
> 
> ** If you have not seen TFP, this will make no sense.
> 
> *** Sweetie and Daisy- Here's to Our Baker Street Boys!


End file.
